Cookies
by Chimomo
Summary: A tale of Jacob and Queenie's life together, beginning in his New York bakery with their smiles.


The silence in the room was deafening. His hand flew instinctively to his neck – he had often felt what could only be described as a phantom pain there, as if he had been injured previously – though he had not. The woman in front of him's smile grew bigger, the corners of her lips tugged up in a joyous grin – it was infectious, he thought, as his own smile began to grow.

It was only when the smell of freshly-baked cookies wafted from the backroom that he snapped to his senses. This woman – this angel, this queen – whoever she was, was his customer.

"Would you like a cookie?" he asked breathlessly, still entranced by her. She looked so familiar that it ached – like a memory of Christmas past, nostalgic, beautiful, unattainable. Yet here she was. "I – er – free sample, Miss..."

"Oh, yes please," the woman's tone was just as breathless, and her words dissolved into a little giggle. God, he'd love to get to know her – whoever she was. "I'd love to spend some time with you, too, honey." Her smile dazzled him, and all he could do was stare, dumbfounded – he'd barely thought the sentence before the sentiment was repeated by her. Perhaps in his daze he had said so without thinking – yes, that must have been it.

"I, uh, hold on – Andrew, could you take over for a few minutes?" he called to a young worker, who nodded. "Right this way, Miss..."

The woman took a few steps forward. "I'd really love one of your cookies," she admitted in the same breathless tone. Jacob's smile faltered slightly. That was the second time she had dodged his unspoken question – what was her name?

"You probably think I'm awful rude," the woman said, her tone a little more grounded than the previous breathless voice she'd had. "Not telling you my name, and all. But I think there's so much more to a person than their name, don't you honey?"

There, she'd done it once again. Said his thoughts not a second after they'd been thought. When he turned to look at her, he saw the same bright smile, and his suspicions melted. God, but she was beautiful. Not just beautiful in appearance – though, he had to admit, she was one of the fairest women he'd ever met – but something about her, the way she walked, the slight giggle in her breathless voice, the sweet smile on her face that couldn't help but bring a smile to his.

He led her through to a little table in the back, and hastily pulled out a chair for her to sit on. She giggled and thanked him, and his face went slightly red, mumbling how it was no problem, as he shuffled over to the oven to reach for a cookie. His hand fumbled slightly, brushing against the hot oven. Gasping in pain, he grabbed a single cookie, and retracted his hand. The woman jumped at once to her feet.

"Oh no," she fretted. "Come here, you poor dear. Let me see that."

Jacob winced, clutching onto his burned hand, and turned to face her. She approached him, and took his hands gently into hers, and all he could think of beyond the pain was how soft her skin was, and how gentle her grip. Her other hand reached into a pocket in her jacked, and she retrieved what appeared to be a long stick, finely carved with beautiful designs on the handle. She pointed it at his hand, murmured a word he didn't quite catch, and a warm white light spread through the burn, fading as quickly as it had appeared – and as it faded, so did the burn itself. The warmth lingered, and he felt his lips part to ask how – but he couldn't find the words.

Their eyes locked, and much to his surprise, he found his were filling with tears. He'd have blamed it on the burn, but it didn't hurt anymore. Her hands, still clutching his, slipped the cookie from his hands, raising it to her lips to take a small bite.

"It's awful delicious," she said quietly. "Thank you, Jacob. I should bring back one for Tina."

It crashed over him all at once, like a waterfall cascading down – memories, so many memories, of this woman, her sister, the strange but kind man from England – and the magic, oh, the magic! The creatures he had seen, the people he had met, the horrors of this world that he had uncovered – but the beauty of magic, the warmth of her smile, the kindness he could taste in every bite of that strudel.

"Queenie," he choked out.

"Hello," she breathed, smiling, eyes filled with tears that began to spill over. Jacob reached a hand to brush a tear away from her cheek, and his gaze shifted slowly down to her lips. There was a crumb from the cookie there.

He leaned forward and kissed it away.

* * *

Their wedding was a very small affair. Being an orphan, all Queenie had was Tina beside her, and Jacob could think of none better to stand with him than Newt – the man he had to thank for everything good he had in his life. He could hardly ask any of his old friends to attend – for how would he explain his wedding taking place in London, in a tiny office underground in a place Newt referred to as the Ministry? No, it was better with just the four of them. The small wizard officiating the ceremony had carefully explained each part of it to Jacob – the most familiar part to him was the vows. Instead of the traditional religious vows he always thought he'd say one day, he found himself in front of this woman who blew him away every single day, ready to pour out every bit of emotion he had for her.

"Queenie, ah, I – um, well," he stammered. "I don't really know where to begin – there's so much I could say, that I want to say."

"That's okay," Queenie said gently, giving his hand a tight squeeze. "I know. Everything you want to say... I know it. You don't have to say it, honey. I already know it all."

Jacob cleared his throat. "That does make it easier," he admitted with a chuckle. Behind him, he could hear Newt chuckling as well, and his eyes drifted over to Tina, who was smiling through her tears.

"Queenie," he said softly. "I can't say it all because there's just so much to say. There's so much you've given me. A new life, a new world, a new – a new family. A new everything. You mean the world to me, and I love you. I don't know what else to tell you – nothing else matters, just... I love you."

"Oh, honey," Queenie sniffed, her smile as radiant as the first time they'd met, or that afternoon in his old bakery, with a cookie crumb on her bottom lip. "I love you, too, Jacob Kowalski, from your cookies to your moustache, to that great big heart of yours. Every bit of you is wonderful."

When they kissed at the end of the ceremony, covered in a shower of silver and gold sparkles, Jacob whispered to her, "I'm so glad I offered you one of my cookies."

* * *

He was the first muggle to open up a shop in their little wizarding village. A bakery, of course, always warm and cozy with the rich aroma of bread baking in the oven. Queenie worked with him, and Newt and Tina would drop by once in a while – not always together, but when they did, the pair would sit at the table by the window, each with a cookie in front of them, not paying attention to anything other than the other's eyes. Oh, they would talk, yes, but it was the eyes that would be having the real conversation.

As their shop prospered, Jacob and Queenie settled more and more in the village. The wizards there were far more welcoming to Jacob than the wizards of New York had been, and he found himself quite content.

It was a blustery evening in autumn when their lives changed forever. Jacob was wiping down a counter in the bakery, having just closed for the night, when Queenie entered through the back door that was attached to their cottage. Though she smiled at him and he back at her, there was a look of uncertainty in her face – very unusually, as she was normally quite confident. Jacob frowned slightly – was she alright? Had he done something wrong?

Queenie giggled. "Oh you silly man, I'm fine. I just have a little bit of news for you. You'd better sit down, honey."

When they were settled at the table by the window, Queenie took hold of his hands, and with a little smile upon her face, whispered to him, "We're gonna have a baby, honey."

Jacob felt the colour drain from his face. All thoughts flew from his head, replaced with baby, baby, baby.

Without a word, he loosened his hand from hers, and almost jumped up out of his seat to scamper over to the counter. He picked out a cookie from the shelf that hadn't sold, and hurried back over to his wife, shoving it out to her in silence, face now turning red.

"Cookie?" he burst out finally, and Queenie just smiled.

* * *

Their eldest, Emily, was born in late June. She was one of the happiest babies Jacob had ever seen. He was probably a little biased, but he considered her one of the loveliest, too. Her giggle would ring through their small cottage, and whenever Queenie brought her into the bakery, customers would coo over her.

The fact that she was a magical baby never really occurred to Jacob – of course he knew she would be, but it never really registered that his little girl was a witch. She was just Emily, his smiley little baby who had his heart from the moment he first held her.

It was only when she was three that he really and truly realized that his little girl had magic. She was meant to be put down for a nap in the afternoon, and Queenie had gone out for a few hours (when asked why, she'd only winked and said it was a surprise), leaving Jacob alone with her. It wasn't that he'd never been left alone with her – of course he had. It was only that he'd never been alone with her and seen her have a tantrum.

The cause was rather silly – she'd asked for a treat, and he'd offered her a doughnut. She'd always liked them, especially the ones with cream inside that he so enjoyed making. But apparently on this day she'd not wanted a doughnut. When he set down a plate with a doughnut on it, her little face screwed up as she started to scream. Jacob, flustered, could only watch in horror as the doughnut on her place flew up and right into his face, before cream exploded all over him, her screams still echoing in his ears. He had barely managed to wipe off his eyes with his apron when he saw a basket of cookies zip down from the shelf into a crying Emily's hands. It was only then that her cries quieted, and a slightly stunned Jacob watched as she picked one out of the basket to eat.

When Queenie came in through the door only minutes later, he was still watching the toddler, stunned, as she nibbled on a chocolate chip cookie.

"Oh, honey! What happened?" Queenie asked. Jacob turned his head slightly, his mouth ajar and eyes wide.

"Oh, is that all?" she asked calmly, and giggled. "You didn't think she was gonna be a no-maj, did you?"

"She – the doughnut – cookies -" he spluttered, as Emily giggled and began to eat another cookie. "Oh – hang on, Emily, not too many now, there's a good girl."

"Accidental magic," Queenie explained with a laugh. "Every little witch has it. I once turned all of Tina's clothes pink because she said she it."

"Can she do that? Turn all of my clothes pink?" Jacob asked in shock, looking down at his crisp white shirt and blue bowtie.

"Only if you give her a reason to, honey," Queenie warned.

"Our little baby's gonna be a challenge, isn't she?" Jacob chuckled nervously.

"Oh, yes, and with another baby on the way, we're going to really have our hands full!" Queenie said quickly, almost too quickly for him to hear her sentence – but he did, and he dropped the cookie he had just confiscated from Emily, who snatched it back and took a big bite.

"A-another baby?" he asked. "Are you sure?"

"Of course I am – what did you think was my surprise?" Queenie asked with a large smile. Jacob thought she'd never looked more radiant, and pulled her in for a kiss.

* * *

Jacob sat nervously outside the waiting room, four-year-old Emily sitting beside him, her little face screwed into a determined pout. Jacob cleared his throat.

"So, Emily," he began. "Are you excited?"

Emily's head turned slowly, a pointedly grumpy look on her face. Jacob chuckled awkwardly, reaching to rub the back of his neck.

"Nothing's going to change, you know," he promised. "Well, okay – there will be a baby, of course, you'll have a lovely little sister. But, uh, nothing else is going to change."

"You can't be serious, Papa," Emily said sourly. "I don't want a sister! It's not fair."

"Well – how is that not fair, Emily?" Jacob asked, bewildered.

"You didn't ask me if I wanted a sister, you just decided to have one," Emily sniffed, still frowning. "And now you're gonna get rid of me!"

"What?" Jacob asked in blunt surprise. "Emily, where did you get that idea?"

"I'm supposed to go with Uncle Newt and Aunt Tina," Emily said miserably. "You're getting rid of me!"

"What – that's -" It was true, technically. Emily was meant to stay with Newt and Tina for a week or so after the baby was born, just to give Queenie time to adjust to her new infant. But the baby was coming early, and Newt and Tina weren't back from their trip to Japan (hunting some new creature, no doubt), so Emily had to stay with them.

"Emily," Jacob said gently, pulling his daughter close to him. "Mummy and I love you more than anything. We would never, ever get rid of you. I promise."

"Promise?"

"Promise," he swore, giving her shoulders a squeeze. "And you know, there are lots of things you'll be able to do that the baby won't. Lots of special things."

"Like?" Emily asked curiously, her wide eyes gazing up at him. Jacob grinned at her.

"Like helping me bake cookies!" Emily's eyes widened further, and her mouth formed a little 'o'. She had never been allowed to help bake before – she'd always been a bit too young.

"Really?" she squeaked. "Really, papa?"

"Really," he laughed. "In fact, why don't we make some cookies for mummy when we all go home?"

"And the baby?" Emily asked slowly. Jacob tried not to snort in amusement.

"That's another thing you can do that the baby can't," he said with a wink. "Eating cookies is for older girls, like you."

Emily grinned.

* * *

Margaret was always the beautiful one. Her delicate, doll-like beauty and long dark curls drew attention wherever she walked, be it Diagon Alley or muggle London, or the little village where she grew up. By the time she was a fourth year at Hogwarts, she had many of the boys in her house of Ravenclaw at her feet.

Much to their father's relief, however, neither of the girls had really any interest in boys – Margaret (or Maggie, as her family affectionately called her) in fact rather ignored the boys who took an interest in her, preferring instead to focus on her studies. She was determined not to be outdone by her sister, though she was unsure of how she could surpass Emily. Emily had graduated as Head Girl, top of her year, Gryffindor quidditch captain, and was now in auror training. Maggie's friends would try and remind her that she was considered the more beautiful one – though Emily, with her straight blonde hair and warm smile, had never been anything other than perfect to her little sister.

When Maggie graduated Hogwarts, they were pretty equal – she was Head Girl, top of her year, and while she wasn't the most talented member of the Quidditch team, she poured so many hours into practicing that she became captain out of sheer dedication.

It was only two years later when Maggie, an apprentice healer, discovered that she had finally done something first. It was not, however, something she thought her parents would be very proud of.

She thought at first, in her panic and fear, to hide it. Her robes could cover it, surely, and – no, she realized on a cold winter's night a few months after her discovery. She could try to hide it for as long as she wanted, but there was no hiding a baby.

She would have to tell her parents.

Margaret decided to do it at Christmas – there, she could get it over with all at once. Tell her parents, Emily, Tina and Newt, her cousins Albert and Amelia. She didn't want to disappoint them – especially not Albert, Newt and Tina's elder child who had been in her year at Hogwarts, and was a close friend.

She did not know how they would react. Emily would disapprove, but was unlikely to be truly angry – as competitive as the two were, Maggie knew they had always been closer than most siblings. It was her parents whose approval mattered the most to her – for while she was working and living alone, she knew that she'd need their help. Financially, emotionally. Her parents had always been loving, supporting people, but this... this was beyond wanting her mother to kiss her knee better when she scraped it. Beyond a visit where she could cry into her mother's shoulder after a rough day at work. This was her, a nineteen year old apprentice healer, unmarried, not even in a relationship with the man whose child it was, having a baby.

Christmas seemed to come especially quickly – perhaps because she was dreading it so badly. Queenie gave her an odd, furtive look when she arrived at their cottage – she had put a wall up in her mind so that there was no way her mother could figure out her news before she even said it. Unfortunately, this meant that she looked rather suspicious.

Jacob, of course, had dressed up as Santa – though he lacked the traditional beard, as he declared it made it too difficult to eat. Though all four of the children had grown past the age of wanting to see St. Nick, he insisted on doing it each year – it was a tradition. When they were little, he'd let them sit on his knee and tell him what they wanted – but no matter what, he'd give them the same thing every year. A cookie. Freshly baked, warm, full of love. Maggie had always been proud of her father's cookies – of all the things he baked, they were her favourite.

Newt and Tina arrived with Amelia, who had all the latest gossip from Hogwarts, and Albert arrived as late as ever, flashing his family a charming, apologetic grin – he'd been travelling in Germany, and had missed his first Portkey. Emily arrived last, and offered no apologies – merely a cryptic smile.

By the time they all sat down to dinner – prepared, of course, by Queenie, who insisted she was the best cook of the family as much as Jacob could claim to be the best baker – Maggie had almost lost her nerve. She had kept up her mental shield the entire evening, and she got the sense her mother was getting rather concerned about her, judging by the glances she was getting every few minutes.

"So Emily," Maggie heard Tina say. "How are things going for you this year? Even though we're in the same department at the Ministry, I almost never see you. You're in Bentley's team, right?"

"Yes." A small smile began to grow on Emily's face. "I'm on Sal's team."

"First name basis, eh Emily?" Albert chimed in with a laugh.

"Well... I'm being removed from his team soon," Emily said, slightly stiffly. Queenie gasped.

"Why? What happened, honey?" she asked, brows furrowed in concern. Emily shook her head, the smile growing. A pit had begun to grow in Maggie's stomach – a pit that became bigger with every passing moment.

"Well," Emily began, and took a deep breath. Her smile wider than ever, she announced, "Sal and I are going to be getting married next summer."

There was a clatter as Jacob dropped his fork onto his plate, his mouth ajar and eyes wide. Queenie let out a squeak, clapping her hands to her mouth.

"Our baby," Queenie whispered. "Jacob, our baby's getting married!"

Sentiments of congratulations were quickly echoed around the table, but Maggie couldn't share them. Of course she was happy for Emily – she would always be happy for Emily – but...

"Take note, Amelia," Albert said to his little sister, a mischievous glint in his eye. "This is clearly how to become the perfect daughter."

Maggie's eyes began to fill with tears, and she slammed her fists down on the table, scooted her chair back, and stormed into the kitchen, shoulders beginning to heave with sobs. Of course Emily was getting married. Of course on the night she had to reveal she was a failure, Emily had to announce the news that would prove her to be the ultimate success – the perfect daughter.

She could hear footsteps behind her. Maggie didn't turn around. She had just made a fool of herself – she didn't need someone to rub it in.

"Go away," she croaked.

"Now, why would I do that?" her mother's gentle voice asked. "My little girl just burst into tears and left the room. What kind of mother would I be if I didn't try to comfort you? Come here, honey. Tell me what's wrong."

"I – I -" a fresh round of sobs began to overtake Maggie. "I can't."

Queenie's arms wrapped around her from behind. "Then show me."

Letting out another sob, Maggie closed her eyes, and let down the mental walls she'd had up all evening. Queenie breathed in sharply, and her grip around Maggie tightened.

"I'm sorry, mum," Maggie whispered. "I'm sorry I'm not Emily."

"Don't you dare," Queenie whispered back, fiercely. Maggie was forced out of her grip, and Queenie tugged her around to face her. Her mother's eyes were glistening with tears. "Maggie, you are our daughter, and we love you. No matter what you do, no matter who you become or where your life takes you, you are our daughter, and we love you. Your life is taking a different path than your sister's, honey, but that doesn't mean we love you any less."

Queenie pulled Maggie into a soft embrace, and Maggie buried her face in her mother's shoulder. There was a soft knocking on the doorframe of the kitchen. "Er, can I come in?" Jacob asked. "You didn't come back, so, er... I got kinda worried. What's up?"

"Dad..." Maggie said, pulling away from Queenie's embrace. "I... I'm going to have a baby. I'm – I'm not with anyone, and I know that's not very conventional, especially not in the muggle world, but I – I am, and it's happening, and I'm so sorry -"

"Wait," Jacob said, cutting her off. "A – a baby? Maggie, are you – a baby? Really?"

"That's right, honey," Queenie told him breathlessly. "We're going to have a little grandbaby."

"A grandbaby..." Jacob said with a look of wonder. "I'm gonna be a grandpa?"

Maggie nodded, now smiling through her tears. Jacob stumbled forward to pull her and Queenie into a hug.

"Grandpa, Queenie," he whispered to his wife. "I'm gonna be a grandpa. W-wait, here, it's sort of a tradition."

Pulling away from the hug, he hurried over to the large cookie jar that sat on their kitchen table, and grabbed a cookie.

"Here," he said, offering it to Maggie. "For you... and, well, for your own little cookie."

* * *

Seraphina was not entirely excited to go to Hogwarts in September of 1967. The only other kids she knew were the children of her mother's co-healers at St. Mungo's – and none of them were old enough to join her at school.

"Mummy," she asked as the pair weaved through the crowds at King's Cross Station. "No one's going to be angry at me for not being a pureblood, are they? Isabella Avery said that her parents hate anyone that's not pureblood, and that-"

"No," Maggie said firmly. "I don't care what Isabella Avery's parents said, Phina. Yes, your grandfather was a muggle. But it doesn't make one ounce of difference, I promise. And if – if anyone should give you trouble, you just tell your professors, alright?"

"Alright," Phina mumbled, not entirely convinced. "Are grandmum and granddad coming to the platform to say goodbye?"

"No, they said goodbye last night, remember? Granddad gave you cookies to bring," Maggie pointed out. Phina's hand flew to her coat pocket, and felt a large lump. The cookies were still there. "You'll see them at Christmas."

"I guess," Phina said quietly. She was used to spending almost every day with her grandparents while her mum was at work – they would even give her a little pocket money every week for helping out in the bakery. "I'm going to miss them. And you, mummy. Are you sure you can't come work at Hogwarts?"

"Hogwarts has a healer," Maggie pointed out, squeezing Phina's hand. "Well, here we are – Platform 9 and 3/4. Ready?"

"No," Phina admitted, her heartbeat quickening. But her mother had a firm grip on her hand, and gave her a gentle tug towards the pillar. Phina screwed her eyes shut, and kept walking and walking until a loud clamour of noise met her ears. Opening her eyes, she found herself surrounded by a whirl of activity – parents and students bustled about the platform, voices rising up like the steam from the train.

The next few minutes were a whirlwind for Phina – her mother, who had to get to work, bid her a fleeting goodbye, with a tight hug and a promise to write every single week – and she soon found herself stepping onto the train, waving goodbye one final time to her mother.

She made her way down the corridor, peeking into all the compartments. Most were full of older students, some of whom scowled at the sight of the small first-year, others who smiled encouragingly. Phina felt a lump building in her throat. Maybe she wasn't ready for Hogwarts. Maybe she could wait a few years the other kids she knew were starting.

"Are you coming in or not?" a voice jolted Phina out of her thoughts, and she realized she'd been standing in the door of a compartment for what must have been half a minute. A young boy looked curiously at her from inside.

"I – um – can I?"

"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want you to," the boy said with a shrug, and Phina shuffled inside, sitting down very slowly. "I'm Alexander. You?"

"Phina," she replied. "Are you, um... also a first-year?"

"Yeah," Alexander replied with a grin. "Probably going to either Gryffindor or Ravenclaw – both my parents were in Gryffindor, but my granddad was a Ravenclaw and everyone swears I'm just like him."

"Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff, I think," Phina replied nervously. "Mum was a Ravenclaw, and my aunt was a Gryffindor – but I'm nothing like her..."

"What about your grandparents?" Alexander asked.

"Neither of my grandparents went to Hogwarts," Phina admitted in a soft voice. "Grandmum went to Ilvermorny, and granddad is a muggle. He – he's a baker, and really nice, and he gives the best hugs and makes the best cookies. So even though he's, um, not a wizard, he's just a normal granddad. Here, try one of these." Hand shaking after her rambling, she pulled out the little bag of cookies from her pocket.

Alexander was grinning at her. "Your granddad's a muggle, too?" he asked. Phina narrowed her eyes in confusion.

"You said your granddad was in Ravenclaw," she pointed out.

"Well, yes, but my other granddad was a muggle. My mum's muggleborn," Alexander said with a shrug, accepting a cookie from Phina and taking a bite. "Merlin, you're right – these are delicious."

Phina began to smile. Maybe Hogwarts wouldn't be so bad after all. And maybe she could get her granddad to mail her some cookies.

* * *

The year was 1972, and Jacob and Queenie were as happy as they could be while a reign of terror had begun. They were frightened – everyone was frightened – but in those days Voldemort hadn't hurt them personally. Many people still thought that nothing much would come of this "Dark Lord" and his followers – they'd had dark wizards spring up before, and they'd taken them down.

Phina was in her 6th year in Hogwarts. Emily had had a daughter two years prior – little Annalise Bentley. Emily and her husband were being kept busy hunting down rumoured dark wizards – more of whom were popping up every day – which meant Jacob and Queenie got to spent a lot of time with Annalise.

In 1972, Jacob and Queenie were truly happy.

In 1973, Phina was in her seventh year at Hogwarts. Maggie had just been promoted to a more advanced healing position. Annalise had turned three, and was still doted upon by her loving grandparents.

In 1973, Emily and Sal Bentley went missing after being on a mission to track a group of Death Eaters. Two weeks later, their bodies were found in the River Avon by some muggles, and Jacob and Queenie felt their worlds falling apart.

For a day they simply held each other. Queenie, especially, was inconsolable – she was feeling not only her own pain, but Jacob's as well. Phina was granted a week to come home from Hogwarts to be with her mother and grandparents. And Annalise, little three-year-old Annalise, was taken to stay with a kindly wizarding family, the Weasleys, for a couple of days – simply so that the family could grieve before figuring out what was to happen next.

Jacob and Queenie took Annalise home with them a week after the bodies of Emily and Sal were found. They had had their grief – now they had another baby to raise.

"Oh, I must warn you," Molly Weasley whispered to Queenie on the day they collected Emily from the Burrow, a kindly hand placed on her shoulder. "The poor dear's been having nightmares. Wakes up crying each night. Arthur and I, we've – we've tried to calm her, but nothing's been working."

"Thank you," Queenie gave her a weak smile. "Thank you for looking after her."

That night, they woke to the sound of Annalise wailing. Queenie clutched onto Jacob's hand, her eyes filling with tears.

"She's – she's dreaming of such awful things, Jacob," she whispered to her husband. "Of her parents dying, of her dying, of – of us abandoning her, of being left alone, of us dying. Oh Merlin, Jacob, I – I can't, I -"

Jacob pulled her into a soft embrace, kissing her temple, before slipping out of bed and across the hall to Annalise's room – the room that had once belonged to Emily herself.

"Annalise?" he asked gently. Annalise let out a tiny, muffled sob into her pillow. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

"Gr-granddad," Annalise asked with a small, trembling voice. "Are you gonna leave me?"

"No," Jacob whispered, sitting on the edge of her bed. "No, no, never."

"What if you and grandmum die?" she wailed.

Jacob reached over and lifted the tiny girl into his arms, pressing her against his chest where he knew she could hear his heartbeat.

"Hear that? I'm alive, Annalise. I'm still alive. And I'm gonna stay that way. So is – so is grandmum. And you know, we... we're never gonna let anything happen to you," he murmured to her.

"B-but what if you die?" Annalise asked again.

"Don't you worry about that Annalise. You know, I'm no wizard, but I've got a magic spell of my own to cast. Give me just a minute, okay sweetheart?" Annalise gave a tiny nod, and Jacob looked down at her with a sad, tender smile as he got off of her bed and left the room.

He returned less than a minute later with a cookie in his hands. "This here, sweetheart, is a magical cookie. It's a cookie baked in a house full of love, and given to you with all the love in my heart. And that's a magic more powerful than anything wizards can do. If you take even one bite, you're guaranteed to be safe. I promise."

Annalise looked up at him, her brown eyes wide. Jacob felt a pang in her heart – he had never really realized how much she looked like Emily. "Really?" she asked him.

"Really," Jacob promised. "After all... cookies are pretty special in this family."

* * *

Sunshine peeked in through the blinds, casting rays of light on the crisp white bed linens. Outside, the chirping of birds greeted a new day – a glorious beginning of spring.

In the room stood two people. One was an old woman, whose hair had greyed, and whose face had grown lined, but to her husband was still the most beautiful woman in the world. Another was a woman around the age of 40, whose hair was still a long, pale blonde, and whose brown eyes shone with tears.

In the hospital bed lay a third person. A man even older than the woman, whose eyes had seen more than he could ever have bargained for. A man who loved his family more than anything. A man who was dying.

His goodbyes had been said – tender, loving ones, to all his family. To his daughter, Maggie, and her children, Seraphina and Quentin (a war orphan whom she had adopted almost thirty years prior). To his lifelong friends, who he had long considered his brother and sister, Newt and Tina. To Annalise, sweet, loving Annalise, whom he had raised, and who was determined to remain in the room with him until his final moments.

He wouldn't say goodbye to Queenie. He had lay in that bed wasting away for months, thinking only of how he was going to leave her behind, how he could possibly say goodbye to the woman who was a shining beacon of love and miracles for him. When he opened his mouth to speak that day, Queenie shook her head, and just said something – something she had said to him once before, many years ago. "You don't have to say it, honey. I already know it all."

A healer entered the room briefly to check on him, but he waved her off. His death was long overdue – they had stopped treatments the night prior on Queenie's request. He had had enough suffering for a lifetime. As the healer left, she turned back, caught Annalise's eye, and gave a slight, curt nod. At once, Queenie was at his bedside, holding his hand.

Annalise cleared her throat, and wiped away her tears. From her pocket she pulled out a small package, and took a few steps forward, stretching her arm out to offer it to him.

He opened it. It was a cookie.

"I think I've finally got that recipe down, granddad," she said quietly. "But do you – do you think you could try it for me? I want to make sure it tastes just right. After all... cookies are pretty special in this family."

Jacob would have chuckled, but all that came out was a dry, raspy cough. He reached weakly for the cookie, but his arm fell, limp, back onto the bed. Queenie plucked the cookie out of Annalise's hands, her cheeks glistening with tears, and slipped the cookie into Jacob's grip.

Jacob slowly raised the cookie to his lips, and took a small bite. He closed his eyes, took a few deep, slow breaths, and opened them again.

"Delicious," he whispered to her. "Thank you, Annalise. Queenie -" his eyes took on a sudden urgency, and he looked more alive than he had in the past year. "Look after yourself. Live. For me."

"I'll live a hundred more years if you asked me to," Queenie murmured, and kissed him. Time seemed to slow, and when Queenie and Jacob closed their eyes, they were no longer in the hospital room. They were back in 1931, in that little Ministry office. The woman crying wasn't Annalise but Tina. Their lives were just beginning.

But the moment ended, and their eyes opened. Jacob smiled weakly at his wife.

"Queenie... I hope there are ovens in heaven," he wheezed. "Because when you get there, I'm gonna bake you a cookie."

Queenie pressed her forehead against his, and cupped his cheek with her hand. "I'll be looking forward to it," she whispered.

They stayed like that, foreheads pressed together, Jacob's breathing growing slower and fainter until it stopped entirely. Queenie reluctantly pulled away, and with fresh tears pouring from her eyes, looked at her husband.

"Thank you," she whispered. "For everything."


End file.
